Missing Him
by kittykat221B
Summary: Reunion fic. John isn't upset about the death of his bestfriend Sherlock Holmes as everyone thought, but one night John's emotions run away from him and there's an unexpected reaction...I have to give credit to my bestfriend MIDGE for giving me the title. Oh and eventual Johnlock
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first fanfiction so read an enjoy and review if you'd like to see more :)** **-Kathleen x**

John knew this was pretty heartless but he wasn't as upset over Sherlock's death as everyone thought he was. He hadn't cried at his funeral and still hasn't cried for three years since that fateful day Sherlock plummeted to his death. Although he almost cried twice in the first few weeks, once at his therapist and once confessing unsaid things at the simple black tombstone, _Sherlock Holmes_ inscripted in gold lettering.

Even if John wasn't emotionally unstable, he had his moments when no one was around. Back at Baker Street he often sat in Sherlock's armchair or the couch where he so often sulked and thought of everything they had done together in the short years they had known each other. He often thought of when Mycroft had brought them to Buckingham Palace, when John arrived Sherlock had been sitting there in nothing but a sheet. They had quite a chuckle at that, later on Sherlock showing him the ashtray he had stolen under all their noses.

John smiled, and thought of The Woman, he didn't know why he was smiled maybe it was the thought of Sherlock annoying the piss out of Irene Adler in heaven (if it did exist). John got up and made tea thinking about the one time Sherlock had made him tea, how awful it tasted when they had been researching H.O.U.N.D and Sherlock said the sugar was drugged. It wasn't that long after when he had committed suicide, John couldn't remember if Sherlock looked blissful or relieved as he fell. But what he did remember most was how Sherlock really cried in that final conversation.  
"Goodbye, John."

He cringed and felt a pang in his chest, dammit. He hadn't thought that far along in a long time, and this time it really hurt. Tears stung his eyes, his heart pounding, maybe it hurt more than he let on. But it wasn't gonna change anything, he was dead and never coming back. Arrogant arse, he was never gonna step through the door beckoning for John to follow him on another case. Or wallow in his misery when he was bored, or shoot the walls or make snarky remarks about John's jumpers or-

"John."

A tear dripped onto his cheek another followed until they were blurring his vision annd soaking his neck and jumper.

"No." He whispered and heard a few footsteps walking towards the armchair.  
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears still leaking out. A cold hand was placed on his cheek and he gasped.

_"John."_ Sherlock said again, his deep baritone voice slipping like silk around him, and he opened his eyes.

"No." John said a bit louder this time. "You're dead. I-I saw you jump. I saw your body, blood pooling-." He choked on his tears and the thought of blood pooling around Sherlock's black locks.  
But the tears had stopped, all John felt now was anger. Staring right up into Sherlock's gray-blue eyes he said "Liar."

Sherlock's look was confused and slightly shocked. He moved the hand off his cheek and stood up straight.

"Not the reaction I was expecting John, honestly. You could have done anything, although I was betting on you punching me. This, though this is shocking." He said looking quite smug.

"Oh I'll shock you alright." John grumbled.

"Hmm?" Was the response.

And that"s just what John did, he stood up and walked to Sherlock"s room, opening up the top drawer to his desk he pulled out a taser. Sherlock had stolen it for an 'experiment' awhile ago and John had found it while going through his stuff.

John knew Sherlock would follow him so when he heard the footsteps stop behind him he turned around and pressed the trigger. The darts shot out sticking into Sherlock's body, jolting him with 50 thousand volts of electricity. Sherlock's body froze stiff and he fell into John's arms and he layed him on the bed, to wait out the effects of the taser. He plucked out the darts placing the whole thing on the bedside table.  
"Told you." Was his fleeting remark.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey guys I'm back, don't worry this will eventually be Johnlock, but you just have to give it time. Let me know if you want me to add anything I welcome constructive criticism. I would be ecstatic if you guys would review :) -Kathleen **

Sitting back downstairs a warm cuppa in his hand John could hear Sherlock's pained moans coming from his room. He chuckled and gingerly sipped his tea. Arrogant sod, he deserved it keeping me in the dark for three years. He had felt like socking him one, but the taser was just way too tempting.

"Johhnn." Came the strangled moan and a thump just after.

John sighed and set his tea cup down, he should really go check on Sherlock and maybe talk about what happened, maybe even apologize. Another thump and John jogged up the stairs to find Sherlock face down in the middle of his bedroom, he smirked.

"Come on, up you get." Grabbing Sherlock under his arms he hauled him to his feet slinging his arm around his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around Sherlock's waist.

"Johhhn?" It was slurred. John was confused, the taser shouldn't have effected him that badly. Dragging him into the living room he sat him on the couch and felt his forehead, it was warmer than normal. Sherlock must have a fever, or an injury.

"Sherlock I have to strip you down to your pants to check for injurys, okay?" His fingers ghosted over Sherlock's coat, itching to find out what the issue was.

"Mmmkay." Was the reply.

John immediatly took action stripping off the few layers he was wearing. Sherlock didn't move he just lay there like a dead fish and when John unbuttoned his dirty white shirt, there it was. A long cut extending along the bottom of his rib cage and just ended under his arm. It looked atleast two weeks old judging by the dried blood crusted around the cut itself and a few spots where it ran down his body. It was swollen and bright red, pus leaked out of it and John made a face. Yep, definately infected.  
John bustled around the flat, grabbing his first aid kit and a bowl of warm water with antibacterial soap. He quickly washed his hands before getting to work.

"Sherlock?" John asked quietly. No reply.

"**Sherlock.**" It was louder this time and he prodded his cheek.

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, they were clouded with fever and they looked sort of confused? Relieved?

"I'm going to clean your cut with some antibacterial soap okay?" He shook his head.

"Noo, I need..I need to go back home and see John..._my John_.." John felt a pang in his chest and his stomach twist. _His_ John? Had he really missed him that much? He thought Sherlock would've been to busy in god knows where to even think for a second about John. Or be off in another country solving cases in disguise so he would never be found out. Or worse, he had found someone to replace him, and had no need for John anymore. His useless ex-blogger.

"Sherlock...It's me John."

"John?" Sherlock asked his eyes focusing a bit, his lips turning down into sort of a frown.

"In the flesh." John said with a chuckle. "But I need to clean your cut, can you sit here for me while I do this?"

He nodded. John gently lifted Sherlock's arm using his other hand to put the cloth in the soapy water and pressed it to the wound. Sherlock hissed in pain and bit his lower lip, eyes squeezed tight.

"Jesus.." John breathed. "How did you even get this?"

Sherlock's jaw flexed and his breathing was shallow. He didn't answer, but he had stopped biting his lip. John felt his forehead again, still warm, he took the cloth off the cut and grabbed the needle and started stitching. It wasn't easy to see Sherlock hiss or wince when he entered the skin or grazed the cut, but it had to be done. When he finished he wrapped it with gauze and gave him a painkiller with water, then hauled him back to his room.  
Sherlock was laying comfortably on his bed, well as comfortable as Sherlock would voice. He covered him with a blanket and turned out the light. He made sure his eyes were shut before leaving the room.

"See you in the morning, Sherlock."

I need a drink, John thought.

_**To Be**_** Continued..**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ahh I'm sorry I haven't updated lately a lot of things came up, a tragedy and such but thank you for reviewing and following/favouriting anyways.**  
**-Kathleen.x**

John never did have his drink, instead he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep just like that. So in the morning when his bad shoulder ached and his neck was stiff he swore profusely under his breath as he made morning tea. He laid out two cups assuming Sherlock would want some before he changed his bandages.

"Sherlock!" John called. "I'm making tea!"

He heard a low groan and a thump of feet hitting the floor above him and the creak of the stairs, before he was leaning on the kitchen door frame looking almost identical to crap itself. John held out his hand.

"Do you need any help?"

Many emotions flitted across Sherlocks face, anger, confusion, realization, shock then his face went blank and he waved him off.

"I'm fine, John." He said using the 'wow John you sure are stupid' voice. He sighed and put tea bags in the cups just as the pot was whistling. Adding sugar in Sherlocks and a bit of milk in his he set the cup down in front of him.

"I thought you'd might like some tea before I change your bandages." His head snaps up, eyes meeting his. John thinks he sees fear in his eyes but its gone in a blink.

"Sherlock if you're-"

"I'm not scared John, it's unnecessary pain I don't feel like tangling with." John chuckled and shrugged.

"Whatever." And he grabbed the med kit from under the sink where he stored it the previous night. Sherlock turned and faced John but he stood there cheeks flushed. He tilted his head raking his eyes over John's body.

_Cheeks flushed, indicates anger or embarrassment. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he needs to say something but isn't sure if he should. Shoulders stiff, he's tense, but why? What does he need to say? Something catches his eye, his shirt John needs him to take off his shirt, but is too embarrassed? To ask._

Sherlock slowly takes off his shirt feeling the stitches pull and clenches his teeth. John relaxes and Sherlock smirks. He carefully unwinds the gauze and checks over the cut.

"Well obviously your fever is gone and this isn't so swollen anymore so it's doing okay, just let me clean it and wrap it again."

He wraps it up and sits back satisfied with his workmanship. He looks at Sherlock, he's looking much healthier than last night but has lost weight. And there are bags under his eyes, Jesus did he not sleep at all?

"Hey Sherlock." A short hum was the reply.

"What were you doing for the past three years?" Sherlock tensed.

"I was unwinding Moriarty's web little by little. And to do that the assassins had to believe I was dead so they wouldn't kill you, or Lestrade. But John let me tell you this, those three years without you they hurt in ways only you could know. John I know you were hurting I can see it all over your body language but you buried it, never expressed your feelings. John this may all sound really cliche but we both know I'm right."

John said nothing he just sat there staring at Sherlock, different emotions rolling around. Shock was a big one, he didn't think Sherlock cared enough to plan this all out, kill for him. Anger, he was gone for three years leaving John to face his demons, hell he even had to go see Ella again. The last one though was love, not much to John's surprise he had known he loved Sherlock for awhile, it had always been there niggling at the back of his mind and the deepest tendrils of his heart.

He John Hamish Watson was in love with Sherlock bloody Holmes.

Shit.

**A/N: Hopefully there will be an actual plot in the next chapter not just mindless writing. I'm also open to suggestions or requests if anyone has any..x**


	4. Chapter 4

A few weeks passed and Sherlock healed. He never thanked John, but he knew Sherlock was grateful. Christmas passed uneventful, John didn't get Sherlock anything and the other way around. John had told him that he had everything he wanted this year. Sherlock scoffed at that but later told him he thought the same.

Sherlock was now back on the map, he was officially alive and back in business. Mrs. Hudson wept into Sherlock's chest before fussing about the cut in his side. Lestrade on the other hand was a different story. He gave Sherlock a solid punch in the jaw and spit obscene words everywhere. He eventually calmed down and just laughed.

"Wow." John laughed. "I only tased him"

Turns out Irene Adler was indeed alive, Sherlock had stayed with her for a few nights while he was in America hunting down the assassins. John had felt jealousy churning in his stomach but he didn't voice any of it. He saw Sherlock smirk at him knowingly, after that particular discussion. Sally and Anderson's reactions were priceless, John swears Anderson was honestly scared of Sherlock and Sally just muttered something along the lines of I knew we wouldn't get rid of him that easily.

But that was all over and it was now December just a few hours until a new year, a new beginning in some ways. John decided, this year he wasn't going to have a resolution, he honestly didn't need to improve his life anymore, he had his Sherlock back and he was alive. He glanced at Sherlock and smiled. Same old Sherlock, he was sitting at the kitchen table looking into a microscope pausing only to write notes. He watched him work on whatever the hell it was he was doing and sighed. Jesus, I really need to go out and do something.

"Sherlock, I'm going to run to Tescos we need milk." He listened for a reply, none. "Do you want anything?" No reply. Fine he thought and left.

* * *

"Sherlock!" He called when he stepped into their flat but it was silent, no sounds nada. Dropping the shopping he ran up the stairs and checked the kitchen. He wasn't in there but one of his beakers was knocked over, a clear liquid spilling over the edge of the table onto the floor. He checked the other rooms he was nowhere to be seen, so he dialled up Greg.

"Hello?"

"Hey Greg it's John."

"Oh hi John, wha-." John had no time for domestics.

"Have you seen Sherlock?"

"No...why? Is something wrong?" He cursed under his breath.

"Sherlock's missing."

The line clicked off.

"Greg? Are you there? Greg! Shit!" He shouted.

Next he called Mycroft, who picked up after the first ring.

"Don't tell me, my dear brother is missing."

"How did..never mind sod it. You have to help me find him."

"I'll keep a lookout on the CCTV, if that will help."

"Thank you" he breathed.

"No-" the line clicked off.

"Arg not again!" He threw the phone on the sofa.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do!"

**_Sherlocks PoV_**

Groggy, Sherlock opened his eyes his hands and feet were bound together he had no gag. He wants to chat then, hmm.

"Glad you're awake. Boy, it was easy to capture you, and right under Johnny boys nose to." The man laughed. The accent was American.

"Who..are you?" Sherlocks voice was slurred slightly. No head pain, so I wasn't knocked unconscious. Drugged then, must have been out for at least two hours at maximum.

"Oh surely I don't need to answer that. Better question." Sherlock could hear the smile turn sour. "How did you survive?"

"Who wants to know?" He asked the drugs tarting to leave his system. The man stepped closer to Sherlock shining a light onto his face. Sherlock tried to keep the gasp from escaping.

"Jim."

He grinned.

**A/N: Sorry I really wanted Jim to be alive when I watched Sherlock. He's my favourite :3**

**Feel free to review/favourite/follow. I don't know how long it's gonna be but the plot bunnies are hopping their way into the story now!**


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm going to ask you again, Sherlock. How. Did. You. Survive?" Jim sneered at him.

Sherlock smirked. "I could ask you the same thing, considering you did take a bullet to the head."

Sherlock raked his eyes over Jim's body. His hair was shorter and it wasn't combed in its usual style; it was growing back from being buzz cut, not too long ago. Bullet must have missed his brain, he was in the hospital no less, recovering. But the American accent, that stumped him. What had happened to the Irishman's accent?

"Oh Sherly, I'll share my story if you share yours." His smile was all teeth.

"One question. I can't quite put my finger on where your accent has wandered off to; would you care to elaborate?"

Jim shook his head and chuckled.

"I knew that would stump you. But the reasoning for my accent 'wandering off' as you put it; is because it's fake"

In the last statement he had regained the Irish tone.

"You see Sherlock after our little incident with mistaken identities, everyone knew me by my look and my accent believe it or not. So when I went into the the hospital I had to be Richard Brook, but poor American Richard Brook with the fake Irish accent. People are stupid, they'll believe anything."

Sherlock tugged on the bonds, if he could keep Moriarty talking he could wiggle his way slowly out of them. He took a deep breath, chlorine; they were at the pool, odd choice he never thought Jim would use the same place twice. But oh this time he had captured him and not John.

Jim rambled on about what he had been doing while he was gone, blah blah blah; and he was gonna find new techniques to torture poor old Johnny.

Sherlock head snapped up to glare at Jim. "Don't you dare touch John."

Jim giggled. "Awe how adorable, Sherly is in love. Too bad I'm going to kill you, oh even better he can kill you; watch the light leave your eyes. I'll watch him weep then hand him a gun then he'll-"

"No!" Sherlock snarled.

**John's PoV**

John paced around the flat, he had no idea who even had taken Sherlock; Jim was dead. He could've made some enemies while he was taking down the web, but hasn't he finished that job?

Or maybe Jim was alive, but they said he had taken a bullet to the head. How was that possible? He sighed, it was worth a shot; Sherlock could be dead for all he knew. Hell he fooled John for three years. Lets not think about that right now there are worse things to worry about.

John grabbed his coat and waved down a cab; he was going to Scotland Yard. On the can ride there his phone pinged signalling a text message, it was an unknown number. That never was a good sign.

_Hello Johnny. -JM _

John grit his teeth, fists clenching, that bastard he shouldn't have survived a bullet to the head for gods sake!

_Where's Sherlock?-JW_

_You know John I do love the smell of chlorine. -JM_

He didn't answer the last text message, but when he arrived at the Yard he ran straight for Lestrade's office only bumping a few officers. He threw open the door, it slammed into the opposite wall.

"He's at the pool." John said.

"Are you sure about this John?" Greg raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Moriarty sent me a text."

Both Greg's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He looked confused.

"I know it sounds crazy but he somehow survived and he has Sherlock so we need to go and fast."

He was started to get impatient Sherlock didn't have time for Lestrade's confusion.

"Okay John."

Minutes later when they arrived, John insisted on going in alone. And he could hear the deep baritone of Sherlocks voice, but it sounded strained, hurt almost.

He walked quietly towards where the voices were coming from. But when he opened the door the sight that greeted him wasn't quite what he was expecting.

"Sherlock?"

**A/N: Hello again sorry for the inconsistent updates sometimes I just don't feel in the mood to update plus I'm all excited because I'm finally far enough into Supernatural where I can read fanfiction without spoilers. Feel free to review/favourite/follow I would really appreciate it.**

**Oh and how could I forget thank you to all who have reviewed/favourited/followed! **

**Ta for now.x**


	6. Chapter 6

Johns PoV

"Sherlock?"

John froze, stunned staring at the sight before him. Sherlock and Jim were sitting at a table placed neatly beside the pool, playing poker. Sherlock glanced at him and smiled. Fake, John thought. Maybe he's actually scared.

Sherlock was bound in no way but he caught a smear of blood coming from on one of his wrists, he was bound then. Jim didn't move, he continued to shuffle his cards around.

"Oh Johnny so nice of you to make it!" Jim said not even looking at him.

John snorted. "Right."

John had played poker with Sherlock before, he may be a genius but gambling wasn't in his favour. The odds weren't good, he needed to come up with a way to get him out, without involving the pool.

"I'm going all in." He heard Sherlock say. Shit, John thought. Jim smiled and he clicked his tongue, looking at his cards mock disdain. Sherlock also noticed this and shifted in his seat.

John had a strong gut feeling Sherlock didn't have a winning hand. As they showed their hands, Moriarty smile widened, John didn't think it could get any wider. bit when Jim looked at Sherlocks hand he screeched and threw the cards into the pool. Childish. And he charged at Sherlock.

John acted fast, he ran right into Moriarty's side and fell with him into the pool. They battled underwater for a few moments and John heard a muffled bang and a shout. He swam to the top just to be pulled back down by Moriarty.

John was going to lose air, soon; his lungs were already burning and he could feel his limbs becoming dead weights. The world was getting dark around the edges and he stopped trying to get free. The last thing he felt were arms around his body, before he let go.

Sherlock's PoV

Sherlock was honestly stunned, he hasn't expected Moriarty to act so childish, when he lost, he thought he had more class then that. Disappointing Moriarty was, reusing old places, playing card games and even getting tackled into the pool by John...Bang!

The door slammed open and Lestrade was standing there gun raised along with Sally and a few other cops on his heels.

"Don't worry Lestrade, everything is fine, dull actually." Sherlock said.

He lowered the gun looking confused. "Where's John?"

"What do you mean where's John he's right-John!" Spinning around and looking into the pool he saw John starting to lose consciousness. About a minute until he drowns, he jumped in swimming down and fishing him out just as he blacked out. Funny enough there was no sign of Moriarty, did he drown? He wasn't too worried at this point his John was going to die of he didn't do something.

Flopping John out of pool he climbed out after him and started taking normal procedures in this kind of situation. But pumping his heart wasn't working, he would use mouth to mouth then.

When Sherlock lifted his head John coughed up the water he had swallowed and slowly was regaining consciousness.

"Sh'lock?" He slurred.

"Yes John, you're safe now and so am I no harm done."

He only smiled.

* * *

Later on back at the flat, John insisting he felt fine, was cleaning and bandaging Sherlocks wrists.

"You know John you don't have-"

"Yes I do."

They stared at each other. His pupils are dilated, so he's attracted to me then. Pulse slightly elevated, adrenaline would be gone by now so attraction for sure. Sherlock could feel his heart pound slightly faster, obviously he was also attracted to John. He wondered is his pupils were also blown.

"Thank you" John said and cupped his cheek.

"You don't need-" He started, but he was cut off by John's lips on his.

**A/N: Ahhhh I'm sooooo sorry about the late update. I was going to post this earlier this week but I went to see The Hobbit (which was amazing btw) and then school started again. Blegh. But thank you so much to everyone who followed/reviewed/favourited this story, it makes my day :D**

**P.S I'm also currently working on another one or two shot so look out for that one ;) x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Beware the twist. x**

**Sherlocks PoV**

The kiss really took him off guard, he didn't respond for a whole 7.5 seconds before he melted into the kiss wrapping his arms around John's neck. John moaned, twining his fingers in his hair. Sherlock shivered at the touch, his scalp had always been sensitive. John's tongue licked along his bottom lip asking for entrance, he happily obliged.

They're kissing was heated, both men exploring each others mouths an occasional moan escaping, neither knowing who it was half the time. Finally they pulled away, light headed, lips red and swollen. Sherlock thought John looked particularly attractive all hot and bothered and he laughed silently to himself.

Sherlock spotted John sporting an impressive erection, soon enough John saw him staring and slinked off to the bathroom, but not before noticing Sherlock's arousal and lay across the couch, and touched his lips thoughtfully one question whirring through the many gears in his brain.

Do I love John?

Thinking back to before he had met him, how he had just gotten over drugs and he would whizz through cases like a machine. He cringed, John had said that to him once. He thought how during the years he was away he was counting down to the very seconds he would be able to see him again.

Sherlock took him on every case now and always waited until John was available before even texting Lestrade back with his reply. He loved the way John's eyes sparkled when he laughed or smiled. Or when he would compliment Sherlock a look of pride in his eyes. He loved John's ridiculous jumpers, and he thought John's small obsession with jam was cute, tea was never the same as John's

John's emotions were especially dear to Sherlock, when he killed the cabby just a few hours after they had met or when he tried to stop Sherlock from jumping, or his speech at his tombstone; also today when he had saved him from Moriarty almost dying for him.

He never once since they had met had he thought John was boring or unintelligent, quite the opposite. If he wasn't smart he wouldn't had successfully made it as a doctor, or even made it to Uni to become a doctor. And the army thought he was good enough to handle wounded troops, so obviously he wasn't stupid.

In conclusion he Sherlock Holmes was very in love with John Hamish Watson.

Now how to tell him?

**John's PoV**

Stepping out of the shower towelling his hair he quickly walked to his room in nothing but a towel. He didn't hear anything clanging so he assumed Sherlock was either in his chair or on the couch. Getting dressed he went downstairs and when Sherlock saw him he hopped up.

"John I have something of utmost importance to tell you."

John sighed, oh Jesus what is it now? Did he blow something up? Melt something with acid? Or is it something about the kiss.

"Okay," he said.

"John Hamish Watson, until you came into my life I never thought I would even experience emotion. But here I am so deeply in love with you it's unreal."

It felt as if John was gonna explode, Sherlock Holmes was in love with him? Ordinary old John Watson, invalid army doctor from Afghanistan. He was pretty sure he was as stiff as stone and his mouthing was opening and closing like a fish, the words not making it past his vocal cords.

"Say something John." Sherlock said looking a bit hurt.

John took a deep breath.

"Sherlock I can't even express how I feel about you in words, but I feel it in my whole body and soul. It find it unreal that you even love me, but what I know is my love for you will never end, even when we're dead." John blushed.

"Way to bring death into our love confessions John," he said in mock anger.

(No on in particular's PoV)

They just looked at each other. They could see the unwavering love shining in each others eyes. They saw the future they were going to have, solving crimes together until their old age stopped them from chasing criminals. They would maybe move out into the country, maybe get a dog and some bees. Someday they would get married sealing their love for each other forever more.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and they both saw the lights and the darks of both their souls shining through to each other. They new each others pasts and hoped they would be together in the future. They stared until they both collapsed on the couch in each others arms just sitting not need to speak a word, silent for the night, soon they drifted off to sleep their future awaiting. It was almost too good to be true...

* * *

Sherlock snapped out of it, glancing down at John from the top of St. Barts. The phone clutched to his ear, a single tear streaked down his cheek.

"Goodbye, John." I love you. And he fell.

He fell. And he fell. And he fell, wishing he could've avoided his death, wishing his dream was reality, wishing he really had found a way to fake his death, and in three short years reunite with John and live happily ever after like in a fairy tale.

But fairy tales don't exist.

**A/N: I'm sorry. But this is the end. Sorry for the feels of there is any. (Not) Sorry for ending it the way I did. But it was fun working on this fanfiction. Thank you so much to everyone who followed/reviewed/favourited this story, it made me so happy to continue writing! **

**P.S I'm also currently working on another one or two shot so look out for that one, I promise it won't turn out like this one did...**

**Farewell friends, until next time. x**


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